


Bad Movie Plotline...

by 74days



Series: Zimbits Meet-Cute Au's [7]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kinda, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Swearing, a scene with kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 06:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: Jack doesn't like Eric Bittle, okay?Well, maybe he does.A lot.But thats okay - because he certainly doesn't plan on doing anything about it.But thats okay - because what are best friends for?





	Bad Movie Plotline...

Eric loved his job - he was good at it, he had fun, and he got to be sarcastic to terrible hockey commentators on the news. Getting the job had been the hard part - he pretty much had to convince the General Manager of the Providence Falconers that their public image and online presence was - quite frankly - abysmal, and then prove that he could change that. 

“Give me one month,” He’d said, sitting with a CV that was emptier than his bank account and zero experience in anything like this. “One month, and you don’t even have to pay me for that month!” 

Georgia Martin, Eric knew, had struggled to get the newly formed team any kind of traction online - they were doing great in games, but they just felt bland and impersonal. Eric, freshly dropped out of college and with no prospects at all had gotten drunk one night and tweeted as much, to the GM of the club. How he even managed to get a meeting was beyond him, and now, three years later - here he was. 

Running the entire online platform and being notoriously good at his job. Three other NHL teams had already tried to headhunt him now, but Eric wasn’t dumb. He knew that Georgia took a risk with him and it paid off, and he knew he owed her big time for the opportunity. 

His official position was somewhat amorphous - he ran the Twitter and Facebook accounts, arranged and shot the Youtube shorts and pretty much developed all of the content for the website that wasn’t stats and ticket sales. Eric monitored the entire teams feeds and comments, kept track of what other teams were putting out and even had his own assistant to help out. He even had an office - although he was hardly ever in it. 

Of course, it wasn’t all roses and great days. The habit of NHL players to put something out there in the world when they were angry or pissed or terribly misinformed was always there - Eric had to sit a few Falconer players down and very politely inform them that calling other players out on twitter was only harming them in the long run especially if they were gonna use derogatory words. 

“Would you say that to your grandma, Poots?”

“No!” The other man said. He had some cookie crumbs on the side of his mouth. Eric knew how to get people on his side. “He’s just a little bit-” he paused, thought about what he wanted to say and took a breath. “A total asshole for going after Jack like that!” 

Eric nodded. It was true, of course, and Eric had himself made a few tweets after reading the deadspin article that had pretty much blamed “The Zimmerbot” for the team losing because he’d ‘obviously suffered some kind of relapse’ by making a couple of bad plays at the start of the match. It linked one of their own articles from almost 8 years before when Jack had overdosed. It hadn’t been pretty - the entire team were on a social media lockdown after Snowy and Poots took it upon themselves to retaliate. Very publicly. Eric loved his job, but Poots tweet was going viral for all the wrong reasons, and he needed to make sure that the man knew that calling a “stupid fucking bitch who wouldn’t know good hockey if fucked him right up his ass” wasn’t going to go away any time soon. 

“You know I agree, right?” Eric said, handing over another cookie. They were white chocolate and macadamia and both Eric and Poots knew that they weren’t on any meal plan. “But you gotta understand, Honey, why I gotta revoke your twitter right now.”

Poots bit into the cookie with a sigh. “Is it cause I said the thing about his ass?”

“It’s cause of the thing with the Bitch too.” Eric sighed. “It’s one of those things we had that meeting about - calling people ‘little girls’ isn’t an insult because…?”

“Girls are awesome and strong and Amanda Kessel could kick my ass?”

“Twice.” Eric nodded. “And people are starting to call you homophobic on the internet, Poots. Because of the butt thing.” Not half as bad as they were going after Snowy, but still. The Falconers had a great reputation in the LGTB+ community. 

“Thats bullshit, Bits!” Poots got to his feet, spraying cookie crumbs all over the floor. “You know thats bullshit, right Bits?” He paused, looking more like a worried 5 year old than a 21 year old man with a couple hundred thousand bucks in the bank. “Right? You know thats not me, right?”

He looked so much like a kicked puppy that Eric wanted to give him a hug. He had to stay strong though - this one of those times he had to be tough. 

“I do. But we’re putting out fires right now and you’re on a ban from all social media for a week till this dies down.” He paused. “Have another cookie and go get ready for training. I still need to talk to Snowy.”

* * *

 

Jack didn’t have a lot to do with the Public Relations side of hockey, and he knew that was probably a good thing. He had an instagram thing, that he quite liked to use to put pictures up, but it wasn’t under his name, or linked to hockey at all. He didn’t use twitter, or facebook, or whatever it was that got Tater into trouble nearly every week. It also meant that he’d never really had to deal with Eric Bittle, which he was infinitely glad about. 

Eric Bittle started his job almost a year after Jack signed to the Falconers and Jack had been avoiding the small blond man since then. He really didn’t have much of a reason, other than Eric was… well…

Poots was already on the ice when Snowy got back from his meeting - muttering under his breath about how it wasn’t fair and glaring at everyone. “You okay?” Jack asked, guilt threatening to choke him because this, really, was all his fault. If he hadn’t made that stupid call things wouldn’t have escalated and… He tried to take a breath. He’d already had a couple of phone in sessions with his therapist and knew that he needed to derail his line of thought quickly before he ended up being completely unable to function for the rest of the day. He made a bad call, he could learn from that. He needed to move on. 

“Yeah.” Snowy grumbled, pulling on his skates. “Well. No, not really.” He sighed. “Bittle revoked my pie privileges for a month.” He glared at his feet. “It’s not like I meant it like…” He glanced up at Jack. “I haven’t got anything against gay people.” 

Jack nodded. He wasn’t sure what Snowy or Poots had said, only that Georgia was mad and Bittle was… well. Apparently pissed enough to ban pie? Which Jack had only heard about happening once before with Tater, who got him to cave after a day and a half. “You getting fined?”

Snowy shook his head. “I don’t even care about that, man, Bittle was all quiet and disappointed.” He paused. “You know how he looks when he’s sad.” Another sigh. “Now I gotta try to think of a way to appolgise for calling that shitbag a cocksucking peice of shit without... You know.” Another sigh. “You think if I use the p-tape on my sticks this weekend and bring my sister and Sarra to the game, Bittle’ll let it go? Maybe get Nate to fight my case? A month without pie, man.” He shook his head. 

“You could try.” Jack managed, trying not to choke on air. “Did you really call him that?”

“Yah, man.” Snowy grunted, standing up and jumping to settle his weight more evenly. “Talk shit about my Captain I’m gonna kick your ass. I got your back.” 

Jack managed to nod, heart beating too fast in his throat to get words out. He didn’t deserve people like this in his life. Not after all the mistakes he made. He needed to be better. 

* * *

Jack had managed to avoid one-on-one meeting with Eric simply because he refused to do half of the crap that the smaller man seemed to have everyone wrapped around his little fingers. Marty loved him because he’d turned his ‘dad jokes’ into some kind of internet thing where he was cool for not being cool? Jack didn’t understand what a ‘meme’ was and so he just ignored it. Thirdy’s poems were published now, he was ‘a thinking mans player’ and somehow Eric made that happen. But Tater was the Falconers golden boy.

He was in most, if not all, of the Face Off videos on the teams website and YouTube pages, he did most of the interviews, the ESPN Body issue and had the most twitter followers asking him to marry them on a daily basis. 

He followed Eric around like an over enthusiastic puppy, loud and affectionate and funny. Jack didn’t understand why Georgia had made Jack the captain when Tater was right there, being the glue that held the team together. He knew he was the highest scoring player in the league, but he also knew that wasn’t what made a good captain. 

He didn’t want to disappoint people. He just wanted to be better. He knew it started with little steps - putting himself out there, being more visible.

It just didn’t help that in order to do that, he was going to have to talk to Eric Bittle. 

Who hated his guts. 

* * *

 

When Eric walked into his office with an oversized latte in one had and his phone in the other, the very last person he expected to see there was Jack “If you aren’t the best you’re the worst” Zimmerman, sitting awkwardly in one of the chairs across from the desk. He knew for a fact that the man hadn’t asked for a meeting, because that was the kind of thing that Eric would have remembered - thank you very much - and he’d never, ever, just ‘dropped in’ like the other boys would do. 

Something obviously had gone very wrong. “What happened?” He asked, walking over to his own chair and putting both his phone and coffee down on the desk with a sigh.

Zimmerman tensed up even more, which Eric hadn’t thought would be possible, with the stick already shoved so far up there that his tongue probably had splinters. “Nothing.” The older man said, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Obviously something happened.” Eric pointed out. “Else you wouldn’t be sitting here looking like you just shot someone.” He paused. “Please tell me you didn’t shoot someone.” 

Zimmerman huffed, and glared. His jaw twitched. It did that a lot when Eric was around. Probably all the times he wanted to yell at Eric for not doing his job properly. 

* * *

* * *

 

Eric’s first day ‘on the job’ had already been pretty intense and kind of amazing. The Falconers were a young team, and most of the players already had some kind of idea about social media and how it could be used to promote them in a better light. Georgia wanted the team to look more polished and solid, and Eric had a plan that could work, if he got a couple of players on board. It made sense to start at the top - He arranged for a meeting with Jack Zimmerman within two hours of drawing up his plan.

He’d bought pie - peach, of course - with a passion fruit drizzle that he knew was just on the right side of tart to pull everything together, and waited for Jack. He had a reputation for being standoffish, but that was why Eric was prepared with pie and plans. 

He arrived at 12 noon, on the button, while Eric tried not to bite his fingernails with nerves. Tall and downright devastatingly handsome, Eric knew that Jack had the promise of being the face of the team. He was better looking than Crosby, with those ice blue eyes, and on the rare occasion that he had smiled, he’d ended up all over hockey tumblr with a few captions that made even Eric blush. He had so much traction already, with being just named the Captain of the Falconers - this untested rookie just coming out of his first year. So many people were interested in him already - The Youngest Captain in the NHL.

When he walked in, Eric had stood, smiling his best smile and held out his hand. “MIster Zimmerman, I’m Eric-”

“I’m missing ice time for this.” Jack had cut in, hands clenched at his sides.

Eric had been taken aback, letting his hand fall. “It won’t take long,” He’d managed, aware that his voice wasn’t as strong as it had been only a moment or two ago. “Georgia has hired me as the new Social Media Manager.” Eric supplied. It wasn’t quite true - Eric was on a months unpaid trial, but he wasn’t about to share that information. 

“I don’t use it.” Short, blunt. 

Eric felt his confidence tank along with his enthusiasm. “Well, um.” He started, before plastering a smile on his face. “How about some pie as we discuss? It’s peach and-“

“Not on my diet plan.” Zimmerman said, tonelessly. “Can we just get this over with so I can get back to my actual job?”

“Well, as Captain of the team, this is,” Eric said, trying not to grind his teeth. “Going to be part of your job. Georgia wants the captain to be more socially available, to promote the Falconers as a strong line-up for the new season.”

Jack had just stood there, built like marble and just as expressionless. “I’m not,” He said, before snapping his jaw shut and glaring at Eric. When it became clear that was all he planned on saying, Eric found himself floundering. 

“Well, um, the plan we have is to have certain members of the team,” He started, begging that he could just get some of his flow back, “to become more active on social media - a place where we can showcase the team through a few strong personalities. Get people invested in the players, to improve the marketability of the team as a whole.” He took a breath. Jack was still standing, unmoving, but he hadn’t walked out so maybe it was working? “We thought, Georgia and I - I mean - that because people were already talking about yo-”

“No.” Jack snapped, looking like he was about to haul Eric to one side and beat the crap out of him. Eric had seen that look at a lot. He just wasn’t expecting it here. 

“But you’re-” 

“I said no.” Jack said, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room, slamming the door so hard that Eric winced. 

* * *

* * *

 

Jack wanted to leave, because he knew that Eric didn’t want him around. He’d over-reacted on their first meeting, didn’t make it any better on the second, and put his foot in his mouth on the third. Everyone loved Eric, Jack knew. They weren’t quite sure why Jack was on his shit list, but they loved him. He knew everyone in the building by name, he made pies and cookies and cakes for every event, birthday, anniversary or win. He always made people smile, even the press. But those smiles and jokes didn’t extend to Jack. Because Jack was a dick to Eric.

But he’d never complained to Georgia when Jack stormed out of his little office. Didn’t mention that Jack had snapped at him, or ignored him. Even later, when Jack found out that the reason Eric had wanted Jack to be ‘the face of the falcs’ was because people were talking about him being so young, rather than his past, he’d felt worse. He just didn’t know how to say sorry, and then it just seemed too late to try. It didn’t matter anyway - Tater became the golden boy and Jack didn’t have to deal with his… confusion… over Eric Bittle. 

Because Eric was… he was…

Jack let himself look at Eric, who had sat in the chair on the other side of the table, creating a barrier between them. It was so difficult to remember that he wasn’t hardly over 5’3 when he walked into a room - his whole personality seemed to make him taller than everyone else. In the four years that he’d worked at the Falcs, he’d changed. Slowly - but in Jacks opinion - for the best. He’d ditched the bow ties and slacks combo that always made him look so formal, and tended now to wear warm looking sweaters and jeans. In the summer, when he’d show up to events like the picnics and birthday parties, he’d be dressed in some form fitting shirts, or once - at the beach - a pair of short red shorts that had Jack walking into the lifeguard tower. He’d managed to hide his embarrassment over that, thank god, but there it was. Jack had a thing for Eric Bittle that he had been trying to ignore for years.

Tater figured it out - the way Jack clammed up around Eric, his short answers - the way he always seemed to know when Eric was around without even looking. When no one was around, Tater would tease and prod at Jack over it. He’d send texts about what Eric was wearing, or what Eric had done. Sometimes he’d take pictures and send them to Jack, having first covered the image in pink and red hearts. 

“You like him.” He’d said, one day, as Jack watched Eric leaving the room after some talk about not posting dick pics online. Jack wasn’t sure who had caused that particular meeting to take place, but he seriously needed to stop thinking of the way that Eric had smirked over “ya’ll’s dicks” or  _ his  _ dick was going to become a much more urgent issue. 

“Shut up.”

Tater had laughed. “Bitty is good boyfriend material. Is good cook - speaks Russian.” He winked. “Soft hands. You are much more hard to tell than Snowy, he is hanging in trainers room more and more now. Is hanging moon on Nate.” 

“It’s not like that.” Jack had tried, but Tater was a lot of things, and dumb wasn’t one of them, despite how he often acted for the cameras. He just rolled his eyes at his captain. “Okay. I see how it is. From a distance.” He shook his head. “Is like bad movie.” 

And now Jack was sitting in his office. 

* * *

 

Eric looked at Jack and tried not to let his confusion show on his face. It wasn’t new information that Jack would rather have his teeth knocked out than talk to Eric - despite the way that Tater was always trying to talk him up like a giant Russian hype man. “Is just shy, is just not sure how to talk to very cute boys in shorts,” making Eric laugh and push the larger man out of his way. 

“Can you repeat that?” He managed, after a few moments of trying to work out what the hell Jack Zimmerman had just said.

“I want you to show me how to work the social thing.” 

Eric blinked. Jack had zero online presence (aside from the instagram account that Eric was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to know about) and had, in the past, made it very clear that he had no intention of starting. “Why?” He managed, after a beat. “If this is because of the deadspin thing, I’ve already taken care of that. They’ve retracted the article.” 

“No,” Jack started, but Eric had already launched into another sentence. 

“If it’s about the rumors going around about Tater being made captain next season you know that’s not going to happen, Georgia has made it pretty clear tha-”

“I’m Bi.”

* * *

 

Eric blinked. 

He watched as Jack blinked, jaw snapping shut so fast that whatever teeth he had left probably shattered in his mouth. He obviously hadn’t meant to just blurt that out.

“I know?” Eric said, hating the way that it came out like a question rather than a statement of fact. “You came out in the interview after winning the cup that first year?” 

“I don’t want people to think that my team are… aren’t supportive.” 

“Mister Zimmerman, Snowy wears eyeliner on the ice and accidentally posted a dick pic online rather than sending it to Nate.” 

“Oh, that was him?”

“Who _else_ did you think it was, darlin? It was all over the internet for like a month. Georgia nearly killed him.” Eric couldn’t help but shake his head at the memory. “We have three players who use the p-tape in every game. You all go to pride each year. No one thinks that the Falconers are anything other than supportive to the community.” 

Eric watched as Jack looked a little lost at that - like he’d forgotten that Georgia and Eric had been working for years to ensure that ‘you can play’ was more than just a soundbite added to tick a box on the NHL’s inclusivity program. 

“I just want…” He paused, looking around the room. There wasn’t a lot to look at, Eric didn’t spend a lot of time at his desk. “To be better.” A pause. “For my team.” 

“Do you actually want to do this?” He asked. It would be perfect, to get Jack out there, certainly for the Falconers - but Eric also knew that his interview skills were almost non-existent, leading a lot of people to refer to him as ‘the Zimmerbot’ on and off the ice.

* * *

 

Jack thought about the question. Very few times people asked him what he wanted. He did what was best and tried to put his own personal feelings aside. But here, he saw a chance to maybe…

“I don’t want to be a hockey robot.” He said, after thinking about it for a moment. “I don’t want people to feel like they need to defend me, or get into trouble over me because I don’t have a voice, not really.” 

He tried not to look at Eric. There really wasn’t a lot going on in the office, which took him by surprise. He had the feeling that Eric was one of those people who made every space they were in a little bit more… personal. 

“You want a voice.” Eric said, and Jack’s eyes flicked over to him. He was staring at Jack with a look of concentration. 

“Yes.” 

And if that meant maybe spending a little more time around Eric Bittle so the man didn’t hate his guts so much… all the better. 

* * *

 

“Okay.” Eric said, getting to his feet. He was trying not to be utterly heartbroken over the honest way that Jack had said he didn’t want to be a ‘hockey robot’. Lord save him from emotionally stilted boys with blue eyes. “Do you have an hour?” 

Jack looked confused for a moment, and then nodded. 

“Good. I’ve seen your phone. I’m pretty sure it still has snake on it. You need a new one.” He got to his feet, picked up his phone and his coffee, which was still warm, good lord. Had it really only been a few minutes since he’d walked in? He took a sip, felt the sugar and caffeine on his tongue and nodded. “We’ll get you a new phone and I’ll set it up for you.” 

* * *

 

Two days later, Jack was looking for Eric. The smaller man had taken him to a store that had more sales people than customers, made him buy a phone that looked like it would snap in half if he breathed on it wrong (and then a case that advertised itself as ‘indestructible’ in case Jack dropped it) and got his numbers transferred over. As Jack drove back to the rink, Eric set up all the apps and social media that he was going to use, setting up passwords that he could remember and using his fingerprint to lock his phone. Jack hadn’t even known that phones could do that now. He’d also got Jacks accounts ‘verified’ within an hour or so, and suddenly, Jack was online. He’d given Jack a rundown of what he could do with each different app, going through what he shouldn’t say more than what he should, and told him that if he ran into any issues that he’d just have to ask. 

So far he’d made two tweets and his phone was beeping constantly. It was starting to sound like Morse code and, indestructible case or not, Jack was going to throw it across the room. 

“Zimboni!” Tater yelled, head popping out of a doorway as Jack stalked across the hallway. “We are looking for you! Are late!” The Russian said, reaching out and grabbing Jacks arm, pulling him into the room. It was a large conference room, filled with people and cameras… and cats?

“Jack!” Eric was saying walking over. “When you didn’t reply I wasn’t sure if you were serious the other day.” He was wearing a plain white Henley shirt that made his golden tan a little more pronounced, and a tight pair of jeans that made Jacks throat a little dry. He was fully aware that Eric kept in shape, but the way that the shirt clung to his body left no doubt in his mind that the smaller man was very well defined. 

“I didn’t get a message.” Jack started, when his phone gave another set of non-stop dings and chirps. “I’m going to smash this.” He said, holding out in front of him like a live bomb, which Eric took from him with a grin. Jack tried not to think about the way their fingers touched, by looking around at what was happening. “What’s going on?”

“We are doing interviews with cats.” Tater supplied, which… did explain what was going on buy really left out everything else - like _why_.

“It’s an internet thing.” Eric said, clicking around on Jacks new phone. “The local cat shelter is doing an adoption run and we were looking for a new idea for the face off.” He looked up at Jack, looking a little sheepish. “I forgot to turn off your notifications, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Jack managed. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Eric smiled, which Jack liked, and tried not to notice the way that Tater was wiggling his eyebrows behind Eric’s back like a loon. “Okay,” Eric said, handing the phone back and clapping his hands. “I’ve got some questions for you, you get to sit on the floor with these lovely adorable fluff balls and we’ll get started.” 

“I’m not good at interviews, Bits.” Jack pointed out, as Eric put a hand on his back and pushed him closer to the area Tater was sitting, enclosed a little so that the cats didn’t escape and full of pillows and cat toys. And cats. 

“You don’t need to be.” Eric said, giving one last push. He was a lot stronger than his size might suggest. “I’ll do the editing after. We really just want an excuse to show the cats and raise some awareness for the shelter.” 

* * *

 

It took Eric all of four seconds to realize that he should never have put Jack Zimmerman in a situation which would involve him sitting on a bean bag with cats climbing all over him. He looked a little uncomfortable, a littler scared and far too adorable. 

The questions hadn’t been difficult, Eric knew how to do his job. These weren’t hard hitting interviews - they were fluffy internet bait and nothing more.

He carefully edited each of the long pauses and moments where the shelter workers had to step in to move cats or keep them happy. Tater, like normal, was a joy to be around, but it was Jack that really surprised him. He answered the questions slowly but with an honesty that seemed a little out of place when he had a giant ginger cat crawling over his shoulder. 

His blue eyes looked good on the screen, and as the cats got more adventurous, clambering all over the two men, Jack relaxed a little. When one of the kittens, an all black runt that Jack had seemed especially fond of, fell asleep on his knee, Eric felt his insides turn to jelly. Seriously, this boy. 

* * *

 

It turned out that all the internet needed was a couple of gifs of Jack Zimmerman holding a kitten like it was the most precious thing in the world for his Zimmerbot nickname to vanish like it had never been there. 

That and the fact that he went and adopted the darn kitten. Whom he called ‘Puck’ and posted a couple of pictures of him online, looking absolutely adorable. Eric wanted to crow with delight over how popular those had become, especially when a reporter asked about Puck in the press pit. Jack had smiled, made some comment about how he thought all animals deserve a second chance and that was it. 

Eric was in so much trouble. 

* * *

Playoffs made Erics job both very easy and very difficult. The team were both very visible with the amount of games they were playing, and withdrawn… due to the amount of games they were playing. Interviews were short and tired, and pulling the boys in for more Face Off videos or photo-shoots just seemed mean considering how hard they were working. Eric mostly relied on older footage, best-of compilations and the occasional snapchat story he could put together for the official account.

“You making me pie for scoring all the points, Bitty?” Tater asked, as Eric sat tapping away on his phone. “Hatty means pie.” 

“I stopped doing that last season,” Eric pointed out without looking up. He’d gone to college to play hockey and kept in touch with his old team. He was glad of it too, the group chat was always amazing.  “Because you destroyed your nutrition plan in three days.” 

“Worth it.” 

Eric laughed, looking up at the large Russian man. “Thank you, Tater.”

“Am glad that Zimboni is having good season.” He looked at Eric. “People being nicer to him now. Is good for him. More posters.” He paused. “Is like a movie, ya? Is all sad and frowning, then nice and funny.”

Eric nodded. He was trying to keep his mind off the email that Georgia had sent him that morning. Another body issue. Jack this time. Eric didn’t want to know what Jack Zimmerman looked like naked. 

(Eric really wouldn’t mind seeing what Jack Zimmerman looked like naked)

“Maybe movie is getting too long though.” Tater said, cryptically. “Time for the plot to twist!” 

“He’s been really trying to more available.” Eric agreed, only half listening.  Because it was true, Jack really had been trying. There was hardly a day that went by without Jack sending him a message asking if a picture was okay to tweet or if he should say something back to a troll online. He was actually a lot funnier than Eric had expected, half of the things he said were certainly not fit for twitter - but they did make Eric laugh. 

“Here,” Tater said, holding up his phone and nudging Erics shoulder. “Take picture with me!” 

Eric looked up from his phone and smiled. Tater always liked to take selfies. He didn’t think anything of it. 

Well, not till later.

* * *

 

Jack was half asleep on his couch when he got a notification on his phone. He’d turned most of them off, but he did keep a couple on, for people he actually wanted to know about. 

Carefully moving Puck so that he didn’t fall off the perch on Jacks knee, he sleepily clicked on the notification and smiled. It was a picture of Eric and Tater, sitting at a table - looking at it, probably at the rink - Eric holding his phone and grinning. Tater had, like normal, added hearts and kisses around Erics face. 

Bitty looking very cute today!! Had to take pic!! )) Have scored many times, now trying to get treats!

Jack laughed, and was about to reply when he realized that the picture hadn’t been sent to his messages. It had been posted. Already the photograph had a hundred comments, more being added as he watched. 

He felt suddenly very, very angry. 

Tater was his best friend. Who knew that Jack had a… a… thing… for Eric. Had known about it for years. Had he been sending Jack those pictures all that time, those pictures Jack had most definitely not saved to a file on his laptop so he could look at later, just to… what?

Steal Eric?

Had they been dating this whole time? 

Jack sat up (causing Puck to slide off and shoot him a killer look) and glared at the screen. Tater was always one for oversharing but ‘scored many times’ was just… Jack felt hurt. Hurt and angry and really fucking jealous. 

And the internet was _right_ there. 

* * *

 

Erics mamma saw the tweets first - before Eric, which… how was this his life? He’d been at home, baking because Tater really did deserve a pie after his hat trick, but only if he promised to share it out rather than eating the whole thing like he did the last time. She’d called, he’d answered. 

“Um, Dicky?” She said, sounding confused and a little worried. “Is there anything you want to talk to me about?”

* * *

 

Eric tried to delete what he could - he knew the passwords for most of the team, that was his job - but the internet was forever. Jack Zimmerman and Alexi Mashkov had a full on argument over twitter. Eric wasn’t sure what had started it - it seemed to come from nowhere. A terrible selfie, a couple of tweets about getting his own way (thinly veiled at Eric about that damn pie) and then… Bang.

Jack had started hurling insults. Taters replies were fast and teasing, goading Jack along.

Some of them were quite creative - which had surprised Eric - but good Lord, this was going to be a nightmare to clean up. The internet was always looking for some kind of trouble between the two. It seemed that everyone was divided over Jack being Captain when Tater had been with the team longer. Everyone knew about it, of course, but Tater had no issues with Georgia's decision and Jack never seemed to lord it over the Russian so the team just… got on with it, ignoring the gossip. Not now though. 

He’d already text both Jack and Tater to advise them that he’d locked both of them out of their accounts until they cooled off a bit. Spoke to Georgia, who was as confused as he was, and arranged a mandatory meeting with both of them first thing the next day. 

* * *

 

Jack tried not to make eye contact with anyone as he walked down the hallways to the small office that housed Eric Bittle. He’d had to turn his phone off after he’d stupidly got into a fight with his best friend over… well… over a boy. 

Who was standing behind his desk looking very, very tired. 

Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. Probably up all night. Scoring. 

“Don’t you dare glare at me, Mister Zimmerman.” Eric snapped, voice sharp and tight. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused last night? Georgia is calling a press conference in now. I’ve been putting out fires all night!” Jack watched as Eric slammed his phone on the table. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

Jack could hear someone coming into the room behind him, closing the door. He didn’t turn around. He knew who it was. 

“You can wipe that smug look off your face, Mashkov.” Eric snapped. “Both of you have,” He looked at his watch. “15 minutes to explain what the hell is going on, and then you’re going to stand in front of some cameras and smile and shake hands and tell everyone that it was all just a big misunderstanding.” 

“Is not misunderstanding.” Tater said, sounding… well… happy. Jack turned to glare at him, and saw nothing but his friend, looking like he always did. Happy, grinning. He winked at Jack and Jack felt his hands ball into fists. “Jack is just being jealous.” 

“Of what?! You both get the same ice time!”

“Of my cute boyfriend.” Tater grinned. 

Jack saw Eric falter in the corner of his eye and felt white hot rage pour down his spine. “I didn’t know you were gay, Tater.” Eric said after a beat. 

Wait. He sounded… surprised.

“You could have told me.” Softer, kinder.

What?

“Am not gay, Bitty!” Tater said, grinning wider. “Is okay.” 

“What… about your boyfriend?”

“Oh, is you.” 

Jack blinked. He looked at Eric. Eric looked at Tater. “I’m not your boyfriend, Tater.” He said, very slowly. Jack suddenly felt very, very stupid. 

“I know!” Tater grinned. “Is like a bad movie. Plot is same all the time.” The large Russian looked at Jack and grinned. “Am going to talk to press. Am better at it. Explain plot of movie to little Bitty. Is credits now.” 

“I am going to beat the ever-loving shit out of you, Tater Mashkov.” Jack said, meaning it with every bone in his body. 

“Am loving you too, Zimboni.” He said, as he walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. “Is all good!” Jack heard him yelling out, only slightly muffled by the door. “Plan is working!” 

“What plan?” Eric said, looking very, very confused. “What movie? Is this some kind of joke?”

Jack looked around and pulled a seat out, sliding into it like all his strings had been cut. He really was going to kill Tater. 

“It’s a joke.” Jack agreed, “I just didn’t know about it.” 

“Is Tater gay?”

“No.”

“Why was he calling me his boyfriend?”

“Because he’s a total bastard.” Jack muttered, letting his head fall into his hands. “Who I’m going to kill at some point.” 

“Why would you be jealous?”

Jack looked up at Eric, who still looked completely lost. Jack didn’t blame him. He only just figured it out and he’d been in love with Eric for years. It was bound to take the other man a little longer, because he didn’t feel the same way about Jack. 

“It’s…” Jack took a deep breath. “It’s nothing to worry about, Bits.” 

Eric, for a long, blessed moment, looked like he was going to accept that as an answer, before he frowned again. “I just don’t understand why you’d be jealous of Tater having a boyfriend.” He said softly. “Jack, you’re a _wonderful_ man. Anyone would be so lucky to date you.” 

* * *

 

Eric snapped his mouth shut as Jack looked up, aware that he’d perhaps been a little too obvious about how much he felt that anyone would be lucky to date Jack Zimmerman. “I mean, you know.” He said, waving a hand, trying to hide his nerves. God, did Jack really need to be looking at him right now, when he knew he was blushing? Jack was just looking at him with those oh-so-blue eyes, and then he straightened up, eyes never leaving Erics.

“I, uh, I wasn’t jealous because I thought Tater had a boyfriend.” Jack said, softly, like he was telling a secret. 

“No?”

“No.” Jack said, “I was jealous because I thought you were Taters boyfriend.” 

Oh. 

Eric was aware that he was just looking at Jack, staring back at him, mouth hanging open. Jack Zimmerman got into a fight with his best friend because he thought… oh.

Oh. 

“Oh.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

Eric managed to shake his head. The smile he got back was… well. Jack Zimmerman was very attractive even when he was frowning. When he smiled it melted Eric into a pile of goo. “Would you maybe like to go… on a date? Sometime?”

* * *

* * *

 

Snowy sat in the locker room looking at Tater with a look of utter confusion. “So this whole fight thing, was just a way for you to get Jack to admit that to Bitty that he had feelings for him?”

“Ya.” Tater said, grinning hugely. “Worked.”

“But you didn’t know it would work.” Marty pointed out. 

“Of course I know.” Tater said, holding a hand up to his heart like he was hurt. “Am Jack's best friend. Am little Bitty’s favorite. Am knowing.” 

“Anyway, no one’s seen either of them all day, so you don’t know it worked.” Snowy added. “You could have just fucked it up totally.”

Tater grinned. In his cubby was a white bow with a whole pie, with a yellow post it note on the top, with a little love heart. 

He’d mention it to the others, but then he’d have to share. “Am knowing.” He said, carefully placing his jersey carefully on top so that it didn’t crush the box, hiding it from view. “Bad movies are sometimes best.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It took me a lot longer to get this one out there than I expected. Still pretty ill but starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel!  
> Nonny on Tumblr wanted a scene where a cat falls asleep on Jack and I had an idea but it turned into such a small part of the story that I feel like I cheated!  
> Remember folks, black cats are some of the least adopted for some reason (my own black cat - Bug - is the light of my life so like, get adopting them!)
> 
> The prompt was: cat sleeping on my lap!


End file.
